Invictus
by bestia
Summary: Don't make me beg! Come and read the bounty of my latest chapter update!
1. Welcome

This poem is the basis for endings and beginnings, as well as being a favorite poem of mine. It is an attitude and way of thinking that will prove to follow the pair in question throughout the rest of their adventures, a theme of sorts.I chose to start my story in this way to give a strong foundation for the continuance of "_More Than Meets the Eye_". Consider this its sequel, but remember it is the same story, same situation, and same characters.

I thought it appropriate to change the title and start anew, because really, the title _More Than Meets The Eye _has already served it's purpose. Aladdin has learned about Mozenrath, and vice versa. Generally, eyes have been opened, and a new idea must now follow the pair through their journey, namely, to become **unconquerable, **to stay strong and stay true through what lies ahead.

Thank you for your time, and thank you for being absolutely fantastic and loyal readers. I am flattered infinitely.

**_Invictus _**

( a poem authored by one William Ernest Henley )

_Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance  
I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
Under the bludgeoning of chance  
My head is bloody, but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid._

_It matters not how strait the gate,  
How charged with punishments the scroll  
I am the master of my fate:  
I am the captain of my soul._


	2. For You

**The lyrics are from Tracey Chapman's song "For You". I do not own this song, whose lyrics I borrowed, nor Aladdin and the original characters Disney produced.**

"_There's no words to say_

_No words to convey_

_This feeling inside_

_I have for you"_

I whispered these words of silly affection above you. Everything was so quiet this time of morning that the effect was greater than I hoped; it was something sacred and sweet meant only to be shared between us. You stirred only slightly, a mumbled breath, eyes still closed to mine.

Aladdin, you do not seem to realize its morning in Morbia. You sleep on peacefully in that endearing way you do. But who could blame you? It is so strange, the surroundings in which we slept through the night. Somehow we picked out this half-buried shack on the border of inner Morbia at random. It was our own luck the bedroom remained navigateable, greater luck still that there was a bed found inside. One bed, to be shared between us.

I turn my head, freed from the fascination of a sleeping you only for a moment, and gaze about the room. Last night it was hard to tell what the state of this room really was, and not just because of the dark. Everything was kisses, stumbling, and oh how careful you were when minding my wound should not be further bothered! Exhaustion won over our excitement, dear, and we fell pray to it.

But now it is morning and golden motes clamber pleasantly without order in the air, the lighting warm and honey hued. The floor is but sand, there are holes in the walls, and our mattress is hardly well made enough to be called 'makeshift', but I would not be anywhere else, on my life I swear it!

Your company, me in your company like this, makes our most humble quarter's luxury unparalleled. The ivory faces in the walls of great, imperial Rome would weep in envy and tear at their silver locks; the green gardens of Babylon would wilt, all in envy of us two.

But their envy would both charm and befuddle me, for even I am still vainly trying to grasp the depths of my fortune. Do not think me an early riser, hero, it was my own eagerness to find proof that last night was not a dream of an overly wishful heart that woke me. And to find myself atop you, unabashedly partaking in the comforts and reassurances of your body as I had slept sprawled with you beneath me. I do not think, if I had spent all night clutching you, holding you, I will ever get enough of your body.

Ah, but look at me! I flush hot all over again just at the thought. Last night, you revealed yourself to me, all of you. I never felt more rooted or grounded than I did at that moment, which seemed to last for hours. Your chin was tipped high, but contradicting was a shy smile and furious blush upon your face. I know it was awful of me to stare so, but I was not expecting the full force of physical perfection. Let any man or god challenge me and accuse that as an exaggeration.

I testify it!

Your body is a map of your life, in a way I have honestly not witnessed before. The strength of your will to survive and rise above is there in the fine curvature of your muscling. There were, as fast as I could drink them as I myself had undressed, (I almost swallowed my tongue, you know, when your hands covered mine to help the procedure), scars. They were paler than the rest of your skin, in curious places, that ultimately spoke of battle and hardship. Strangely enough, it was this part of your body you seemed most shy about, but I surprised myself. With strange intimacy I traced with my fingers and tongue each one of them.

But I struggled to keep my eyes above your waist, lest we loose ourselves in hasty passions, and I saw you endeavor to do the same. It charmed me, in an odd way, and I knew you respected me. There was wonderful mutuality in our resolve not to cross that final, physical line, come what baser instincts may. I did not know your reasons, though I was pleased it wouldn't be only my decision. To go that far would honestly tear me to bits. Even after all this time, I was not sure I could escape the corruption Destane had instilled so brutally with me when it came to sex. I was not sure if the effect was permanent. I am now determined not to make it such. And I was fearful that if I gave you everything, you would tire of me, the thrill gone.

But forgive my lack of faith! It will pass, I am sure, and you are waking more importantly, if not slowly. You groan lightly, sigh and move under me, my breath catching in my throat, for I am suddenly aware of both of our unabashed nudity, pressed up against each other in familiarity.

I am pink once more as your blink your eyes open, inhale with a deep rise and fall of your chest. Your eyes meet mine, and you smile with good grace in a silent and simple 'Hello'.

"_Deep in my heart_

_Safe from the guards_

_Of intellect and reason"_

I lean down to kiss you so you may know the depth of my appreciation in one fluid, unconscious move. You stiffen in surprise, then melt, reaching up to twist your fingers in my hair, a habit which I don't think I will ever mind, quite frankly.

Allah, you are warm, and I know for sure then that it is something born from within you. You are a bottomless well of all the things good, sweet, and noble in the world, and from your mouth, lips and tongue I can taste them all, if such a wistful and fancied thing is to be believed.

Look at us! The sun is still making its entreat; how late in the morning it must be! I can feel the almost physical, innocent prodding of a new day at us both, to if perhaps would care to, even while the sheet slides lower atop us, partake of the world?

I can feel a laugh forming on my lips seamed to yours. No we would not! Not just yet!

There are so many things to be taken care of today and in the following days, for that matter. Do you even realize the breadth of what we have gotten ourselves into? Essentially, we are homeless; this place will not last forever. I cannot remember the last time I ate, and suspect you of the similar hunger. We could both use a good washing, Ra we must stink to high heavens, what with sweat, sun, and grime! New clothes, on that thought, would not hurt either.

But what place does logic and intellect have here in the sanctity of love's affairs? Too long has these two thieves of sensation kept me tied by my own fears and regrets. It has to be understood, Aladdin, that I did not undervalued the love you entrusted me with; I could recognize what a rare and precious thing it was and immediately looked it with in the deepest, most untouched part of my heart. So unvisited it was, in fact, I thought it long dead, but you renewed it with the color of use once more. Nothing can harm the gift you gave me Aladdin, I swear it. Come what may, it will always remain in side of me.

I only hope you do the same.

"_Leaving me at a loss_

_For words to express my feelings_

_(Deep in my heart)_

_(Deep in my heart)"_

What do I say, Mozenrath, what can I say to you? What exactly do you say to the one person you went through hell and back for, you fought for, pined for, loved until there was nothing left of you and still more for? I am stripped of words, Mozenrath, with the impact of you above me. It's the way you look down at me, the tangible trust and bursting need to please, to love and be love you give off.

I breathed through you, when you kissed me needily, but charitably too, all at once. When you pulled back, the look returned, full force and with something else extra. What I wouldn't give to know exactly what was running through your mind! What made your eyes so bright, a smile so natural on your lips, your chest heave?

It was almost enough to make a man nervous, unsure if he could please you. This is bigger than anything each of us has ever experienced. Do you know that? Do you feel it too? It is the feeling of something great and dangerous in our hands. I promise you this; I will give all I am not to ruin it, not to be the one to drop our hearts to the floor to be shattered. I will steady my hand; I will make sure my decisions are the right ones; I will love you like a man.

Yes, I like the sound of that. Too long has my love been given romantically, to say, loosely. My reserves were almost dried by the sheer irresponsibility of it. Who was I to mourn a broken heart if I gambled it in such a way? I won't. I absolutely refuse to break either of ours. The strength of a boy is nothing if it is limited to his body and courage. To gain it in _the heart_, that is the strength of a man.

It is what I aspire to be, Mozenrath, to so wildly succeed where my father could not. I will not let his legacy become mine, that is too easy a trap to fall in, and I see it from a mile away this time. And oh to be a man! I have hurt and disappointed before, because I just hadn't grown. What reason had I to grow up living on the streets? To live from day to day, to steal, to hide, to run and to survive was something even a child could take on if forced to, believe me. And living so stubbornly independent of the cares of another, to preserve self-interest, led me to break Jasmine's heart. I was new, inexperienced, living so fast, learning so fast, that with incapable hands; I inevitably let it all fall. I was no family man. The idea appalled me; it scared me to think of finally settling down, to commit. I was a boy, a stupid, irresponsible boy so sensation drunk I had no right handling something as tender as another's love.

But I'm no boy, Mozenrath; at least that is what I hope. I do know, however, sorcerer with my future twined twixt your fingers, that my hands are not so clean as all that anymore. Indeed, we both know you and I are severely affected. But let us not use such ugly words as all that! Negativity has no place in our relationship, at least not now. No, not now when everything is beginning and sensitive. Let us trod softly on this foundation ground.

Let us just say, love, (Oh what a word to think; Oh what a word to say!) that I am more capable now. I can see, even, what changes have to be made, what is necessary to do to make myself a better person. For the both of us, understand. From now, everything will be for the both of us. Collaborative. Mutual. Equal. I will sure carry my share.

Oh but Mozenrath consider how imposing this all is, in size, beauty, and extent! How large! How grand! Where is all this coming from, these ideas and hopes and strengths? Somewhere new, I can assure you. How wonderful you are to be the one who liberated, awoke, this unused territory inside of me! But I am confident that it is all the more better for the security of our love; it is safe in my heart; it is deep in my heart.

"_Look at me loosing control._

_Thinking I had a hold_

_But with feelings this strong_

_I'm no longer the master_

_Of my emotions"_

I am feeling lyrical, my cherished one, and would wish to share it with you. It is of your cause, of course, Aladdin. Never before have I felt so introspective, and yet so externally concerned with every little bit of air that passes through your lips.

I speak to you, breaking the almost sanctity of the silence upon us for something that made it almost more real, intimate.

"Do not think me selfless," I say with a hapless, small smile into your neck, your cheek. "I would keep you alive forever if only for my selfishness and pleasure." You laugh a small, content sound. You are smiling; I can tell as I steal a kiss and pull back, once again hopelessly drawn to interest of your face. Your expression turns, however, and I realize I must have regarded you quite intensely. Oh but do not fear, love, no doubts cause inner turmoil for me. I am just charmed, I admit.

I settle myself comfortably on your chest, feeling the warmth and security of each small rise that accompanies your breathing. My breath catches as your hand runs down my back as if in reply, resting in the small of it. You must know it; I am immensely pleased, and I shiver but am warmed all at once. I love the look you give me now, it is almost proud, not quite paternal, but close, watching with close attention and care with shadowed brown eyes every move I make.

I reach up, struck once again by impulse, and with gentle touches of my fingertips trace your lips. I surprise myself with what I say softly.

"Look at me loosing control; Thinking I had control."

Your eyebrows rise in surprise as well, and I touch them too, and soon am caught up in touching all your face, everywhere. From honest jaw, modest, hard line of your nose, your strong brow, soft cheeks, trembling eyelids, lips again, and that special place that one bang always falls down into, an essential part of you.

I find the words coming again. "But with feelings this strong, I'm no longer the master of my emotions."

And it's true! Oh Aladdin, it's all true. What a fool I was! What a proud, self-denying fool! What else do you call a stubborn, starving man who refuses to venture out of his shade and among the fruit trees, for fear of getting burnt? I'm not the man I was, I have no foothold to even get back to my safe, lonely place. I am unprepared, unprotected, yes, here out of my territory. But look at what I've become! The man I was would never spare such sentimentalities. I cannot control the rate at which I loose myself, Aladdin, and I wouldn't have it any other way, not for anything. I thought, would you believe, that I could handle this easily, so freely make that crucial change. I was wrong, so wonderfully and rightfully wrong, of course. It's not supposed to be easy, but I know you are well aware of that.

Who could expect more? Who could expect less? With situations like this, I am surprised I have not lost my mortal body and become just another passing beat of your heart. Your love is so intense, my want of you so real, I can't expect to be the controlling here. I am pulled along at the whim of my affections.

" _There's no words to say_

_No words to convey_

_This feeling inside_

_I have for you_

_Deep in my heart; Safe from the guards_

_Of intellect and Reason"_

How strange, how poetic you are like this! I do not meant to be presumptuous; I know this is love's stage, and your inhibitions will return. However, knowing this is temporary in a sense only makes the time more precious, and that is always a good thing.

You will be more like your old self, soon. You should know I don't mind; you should know, Mozenrath, you don't have to change for me. I love you for being a man, for being a pillar in this relationship, just as much as I love you for letting me take care of you. Equality will be the groundwork as we build this relationship. I am looking forward, you know, to the day when I turn to you. How will you be, Mozenrath, when I need you and trust you to fulfill that need? I have never, truthfully, been able to let go of my need to look out for my self all on my own. Could you persuade me? Are you up to it?

But I must admit, I enjoy seeing you so stripped of everything, so earnest. Your words, so like you in a way, flatter me. It makes me wish I were as articulate, as worldly, and as intellectual. I know I will learn a great deal from you; you have seen and done it all, just about. I would feel small in your shadow if not for your hand laced supportively in mine, kissing and touching at your leisure. You make me feel confident I can contribute just as much to this relationship, and for that, I thank you.

I draw my breath in sharply as you nip my bottom lip, a hand skating down my side. I arch, back rising off the sheets. I look up and your eyes are half-lidded, absorbed to the point of being lost in luxury. One more kiss from you and I pull you up higher, closer, your chest against mine. Despite the heat, I couldn't be more comfortable. Mozenrath, I can feel the delicate beating of your heart right through my own skin. I do not think I will ever be close enough; I do not imagine we will ever be close enough. Is this love's madness, to want to crawl into each other's skin?

I gasp in surprise as your own thigh presses against mine, the feel of your body , the most intimate parts of your body, flush against me in one bold, unabashed move. I know I am bright, no, dark red, and I flatten myself back against the pillows. I cup your face with both of my hands, asking for your attention. You are flushed; eyes troubled as they search mine quickly.

Mozenrath, I do not want to offend you, deny you, or nick your dignity. But I cannot, we cannot, kill the innocence of our relationship in its beginnings. I know you may not feel like it now, but it is the heat talking, and you are not ready. You are a virgin in some ways, do you realize that? Yes, you have laid with a man, but in a twisted corruption of what that's supposed to be. You were forced, you were used. Never before have you bedded with someone who cared for you, who you cared about, where there as mutual love and mutual pleasure. That fact saddens me, it does, but it also hardens my resolve to not just casually move to sex first. My sexual relationships in the past have not always been healthy or fruitful. I can't say I've made it my standard to lie with a woman with only honest and sincere intentions in my heart. I treated the act of sex in a way that gave it no value. I feel dirty for that, I know. But I am determined that with you, it will be different. I will not allow myself to use you as Destane did. I will not bastardize how special sex is supposed to be. I will not act like the viewable dog I was, easy, cheap. No, with you, Mozenrath, the timing will be perfect, appropriate, and both our hearts and wills will be fully into it as it should be. I cannot allow myself to startle you now with an act as…poignant as moving to sex now. What if I were to scare you off, to upset an uneasy balance of overflowing emotions within you?

"Mozenrath, I do not think…"

But you interrupt with a mercy, resurfacing from your distant, almost hurt expression to smirk, the effect somehow charming with a soft black bang across your eye.

"I know Aladdin."

I sigh, relieved that I do not have to try and explain myself in such a way that does not hurt you. When it comes to words, I usually end up talking myself into a corner. You lift off me almost business like, rustling and resettling, moving until you lay beside me, a hand lazily in my hair. I must admit, you do not seem to realize how good the touch feels, your fingers aimlessly playing and curling. I feel my eyes wanting to close and I do not fight it. If I were a cat, I'm sure I'd be purring if I could, I think rather foolishly. But I feel no shame in front of you, now.

I might never say it out loud, but there is another, more personal reason I would decline sex right now. It's probably obvious to you, but I've never been with another man before! If anyone's the virgin here, literally it would be me. I have no idea how…well, you know, **_it's _**done; I wouldn't know where to begin or how to avoid making a fool of myself. To be quite honest, I'm apprehensive, scared even. If we were to go **that far, **I would be out of my element for sure. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, Mozenrath. Oh I know you will take care of it all. I have no doubt of that. Inside, I know I am assured with you. It is just convincing my pride, that's all.

"_Leaving me at a loss _

_For words to express my feelings_

_(Deep in my heart)_

_(Deep in my heart)"_

But I will forget that for the time being, Mozenrath, because there is something much more palpable to me. You are slowly revealing yourself to me in a subtle, almost clever way. Do you know you are doing it, I can ask myself with interest? But no, I look at you, at your quiet contentment and passive wonderings, drawn somewhere but here, but still with your leg gently touching mine and your hand in my hair. You wouldn't realize it; it is too special a thing, too intimate even for the pleasure of sharing, though I may tell you some day.

In any case, I am talking about an aspect of you I haven't seen a good deal of, and yet, I am sure has been there all the time. It is more plainly seen and described in the way you sit now, back straight and proud, as if your posture just comes so easily, as if an unconscious perseverance of dignity is implanted full of meaning in your soul. It is the grave, yet calm stance of a man, a man who is aged with wisdom, but young knowing the path that lies ahead, and all that entails. Your hand feels firmer; surer, as you move from my hair, down my cheek briefly, to pull me into you with your arm, and that too feels stronger in a significant way.

You are my senior; I know that shallowly, in a sense that it is obvious. But you _know _more too, and I have a feeling you appreciate more, the common things that I know I take for granted. You have earned my respect so quick, so fully, for that strength I do not think you can get past your modesty and doubts to realize you have. You are stronger than me in a lot of ways. You are less apt to turn to petty emotions, as much as loose yourself to the fluidity of common ones. You take your time, while I know I tend to rush, leading with my heart and gut, while you know the importance of logic and more clever things. I used, and may still have, delusions of my own invulnerability and incapability to make the big mistakes. You are humble in my exact opposite; you know that you are mortal too, and that no man escapes the unavoidable things. By realizing you have been harmed in the past, you have steeled yourself for the future with understanding and precaution.

You are a man, in short, and will make known that more as the days go by. You are just as much as a force in this relationship as I. I will not deny you that. I cannot inflict upon you the injustice of underestimating you. The ability to break a heart is as much yours as it is mine. Mozenrath, you know you could hurt me if you chose, if anger, sadness, or just a basic flash of malice crossed your mind, the injuries you could inflict upon me could be equally physical as emotional. I am not scared, in spite of all that, because your strength is also in your ability to love me. I trust that, Mozenrath, though I cannot explain why.

All proof and past should make me wary of you and your magics. You are the only combatant I ever feared, besides Mirage, although in a different way. Your intensity, your un-gated, ill maintained emotions powered everything, from your magic, I believe, to the intellect that fueled so many nearly successful plots. I have the humility, at least for now, to know, if not for Genie, I'd be dead or damaged, again, by your hands. But I trust you, blindly maybe, but I wouldn't go that far on my own. I know, by our recent experiences together, but more by an instinct inside. I am right this time, I have to be, I know I am.

I _just can't describe it. _

"_Look at me loosing control_

_Thinking I had a hold_

_But with feelings this strong_

_I'm no longer the master _

_Of my emotions"_

It's so warm in here, the exact sort to make your insides agreeable; your brain a pleasant pile of melted nothing, and your body…

You tug my hair suddenly and I yelp, I know I yelped, Mozenrath, because I wasn't expecting it and well, it hurt! I rub behind my head and look over at you accusingly, but there's no real indignancy behind it. Your impish grin and satisfied eyes betray you actually meant harm, and the feeling is contagious. The corners of my mouth itch to turn, but I try to keep them down as I ask you,

"Well now what was that for?"

You lean forward, over your own body as you bring up your knees to rest your elbows on them, the rest of the long lengths of your arms lazily hanging off in space. You shrug with a clearly dramatic casual air.

"I wanted something, and you were starting to nod off there, Aladdin".

Was I that obvious? I redden very slightly and mumble something along the lines of 'Was not', but you smirk encourages me in that way only you can and I address the first bit of what you said.

"What is it that you wanted?"

Your trust in me before you respond, your ease at expressing yourself, is so wonderful, so rare, it is almost tangible. You look me comfortably in the eyes, unassuming in that way.

"I want to hear you say that you love me"

You ask as if it's the most natural thing in the world, as if you have no doubt about my answer. Automatically, loyally I respond with an immediate 'I love you', but you shake your head, tousled curls shaken too, and look for all the world more determined.

"No I want-."

But I cut you off. "You want me to say it louder?" You look taken back for a moment, then smile, nudging me with your elbow, some of your original fire that makes Mozenrath Mozenrath returning.

"Okay then, street rat, say it louder" You prompt me, as if enjoying the game, Ah but you and I know it is not really a game; I mean every one of those three words more than anything else.

"I love you!" I say a bit louder.

"Aww, come on, you can do better than that."

I get to my knees, bed shaking, and you are laughing and so am I, but your honest joviality fuels me. "I love you!" I yell with abandon. "Louder!" you counter, a serious daring in your eyes, body bent forward in intent to interpret every action. This is something to you isn't it? This is the final stage for you to trust me, to put your doubts and mind at ease. Well so be it.

This time, I scream it, as if challenging the cliffs so beyond the desert, the dunes, the crashing fury of the oceans, the might of the sky, the sun and the stars and all in-between, feeling their rumble in return in my bones.

"I love you Mozenrath!"

I surprised myself by how daring that felt, what a sensation it was, and I am flushed all over in pleasure. I notice the room is very, very quiet, and I turn, but you are looking at me, pleased, amused, and a bit surprised, chin in your hand, hip turned to me. There is pink, a fine, even now disappearing line of it, high on your cheekbones. But I think you are conscious of that, and tip your nose up in a very haughty sort of way, sniffing slightly.

"I suppose that will have to do."

I laugh at how absurd you sound; you must realize nothing you can say can harm me so easily anymore. You're just too transparent, now that I've had a privileged first hand view. Then it occurs to me, a stimulating idea, but joking none the less as I remind you,

"Hey, what about you? I don't exactly see you screaming your love to me." I wonder how it would feel, to hear such a groundbreaking thing from you, would my heart leap from my chest? Would I seek sanctuary to sort it all out, the look on your face too much to bear? I can hardly think.

"Ah, but that's the power of self control." You reply seamlessly, a little glint in your eye and I know you have something planned, there is no doubt your mind is at work. I raise an eyebrow, letting you know I clearly want to know more. You beckon me closer with an easy wave of your hand, and so closer I come.

"Watch" you direct, in a tone so pleased of the secret you are about to reveal, as if nothing were more satisfying. I am compelled to watch, curious as to what you have in store, so you really needn't tell me that, but I suppose it's all in effect. You point out the window with your gauntleted hand, and I can very sparsely hear the crackle of in coming magic. You are clearly indicating the sky outside, clear, but for a small, thin sheen of clouds, that seem to thicken as I watch. Yes, they are growing, a pallet of slate blue clouds blocking the sun, mixing and condensing. What in the world, how? I turn quickly to you,

"Are you doing that?"

But of course you are. The proof is there in the full out _gleam_ in the smooth black color of your eyes, and a proper sorcerer's grin, confident and self-satisfied in the talent of your work, is across your lips, a commanding expression. You are not even looking at me, all your attention is absorbed in the sky. I notice it now, the full blown flame of blue black, snapping and crackling, surrounds your hand. But it isn't being fired at anything.

"Look" you insist, and I realize I neglected to keep watching the progression of the sky over the sands outside. I gasp when I see just what was going on. There is a snake-like rip of the same blue black of your magic on that canvas of clouds you coaxed to cover the sun, it's traveling along, with intent, and I can see it there, letters forming, as the magic's insignia remains solid. A bead of sweat forms on your brow. Is this hard for you, to do something I have never seen you do before? My heart abruptly stops, sits transfixed and still, because I can see what you meant by your manipulation of the sky, there written across the clouds, clear and for the whole of the world to see,

"_**I love you."**_

I cannot believe it; it is too grand a thing for anyone to do for me. It is amazing, and I tell you that quietly. How else can a man feel with such a dedication for him made? You cannot help but feel loved; it is there so plain and clear.

"Mozenrath, that's magniff-"

But it turns into a whoop, as you catapult yourself atop me, knocking me back, and I'm laughing once more, as caught off guard as I was. I am pressed once more into the sheets and your arms on either side of my head. Look at me, could I have given myself to the mercy of someone's whim and love before? It is insane. A canine of yours flashes predatorily, a challenge. "I believe I won in all aspects, with that, dear Aladdin. Don't feel bad, it's only natural." Your tone is cocky, irrepressibly vain but with a playful side too. I smirk back, accepting your terms, and endeavor to throw you off me. How strange it is, but I can't find the strength when you descend on me with a kiss!

When you relent, I stare up in wonder, in absolute awe of you above me, chest heaving, each rise of my skin so frantic, hot brushing against the firm assurance of yours, making my breath leap in my throat. I never knew it was possible to want someone like this, to need them with such intensity that if they left now, you'd collapse cell to every cell, just stop existing to avoid the agony of living without that necessary someone. I wasn't fully prepared to face how painfully, blissfully wanting I am; how I wished and needed you with me, around me, pounding in my bloodstream and filling up my lungs. You are looking down at me strangely too, as if not believing I would actually be there beneath you willingly with an open heart and attitude, but I would, time and time again, need be.

"_There's no words to say_

_No words to convey_

_This feeling inside_

_I have for you"_

Mozenrath was finding himself approaching a very unheard of concept, so impossible and wonderful, that he had to muster the daring to perhaps even mouth it, earning a inquisitive curl of the brow from Aladdin beneath him. But he disregarded that, because Aladdin's confusion was surely nothing compared to Mozenrath's.

Could Aladdin really, truly, belong to him?

Oh he knew he belonged to Aladdin. Pride be damned, what safer place for his heart to reside than in Aladdin's care? Should there be shame in giving yourself up to be loved, and to love _only_ your partner in return? He felt himself bristle at the notion alone. No! Of course not. There was nothing more secure! But to_ have _another? To think Aladdin, a being so proud and self-surviving on his own alone, would allow the whole of him to be claimed, to be marked, as Mozenrath's? What had Mozenrath done to perhaps earn that right? But of course, Mozenrath chided himself, Aladdin did not expect anything from him _**but** _love, and Mozenrath was confided he had and would continue to give that ten fold and more.

But such an idea, was it, that Aladdin was his now, truly, and without competition or fear of loosing him! It was fantastic, almost too fantastic for sincere belief. And yet, as he looked down, and saw a gentle smile, an unconcerned sweep of Aladdin's hand on his face, pushing back hair, he knew it deeper than logic or reality. Aladdin _was _his. By all rights, he deserved it, he thought with passion as the truth grew on him steadily. Was it not he who fought for his right to love him singularly, who showed Jasmine that she was not to suppose she could go on any longer without rivalry! Was it not he who gambled everything, security of mind, pride and comfort, in daring to love someone who he didn't even know, at first, would love him in return!

Yes, he thought firmly, there was no way to convince himself other wise. Aladdin was his, and he, of course, was Aladdin's. This was their truth now, what concern was it of theirs if intellect and the world outside tried to discredit their love? They were both surely strong enough to hold their own. He felt pride, and confidence, so stronger and more righteous than most of what he had experienced before. He must surely be glowing with it, because Aladdin was stirred to a curious action.

"No words to say, no words to convey, this feeling inside I have for you." He said softly, face so full of sincerity unquestionable, kissing gently with a rise to Mozenrath's lips. Mozenrath felt his jaw drop. Were those not his exact, albeit spontaneous words earlier, he had whispered to a convincingly sleeping Aladdin? He rolled his eyes, though his heart was warmed by the sentiment all the same.

"You weren't really asleep before, were you?"

Aladdin smiled wryly.

"Of course not. I heard every word you said that way, so more the better for me, right Mozenrath?"

Mozenrath shook his head, laughing unexpectedly. Aladdin was without a doubt irrepressible, but wasn't that just one of the many facets he loved about him anyway? He kissed him in response, no words needed as far as he was concerned; lost in sensation and the moment, and all of the other things he swore he was invulnerable too. But what lies we tell ourselves when afraid of love, when afraid of trying love! No one is too far or cold to be unaffected by the modest brush of love against the skin, none can say they are impervious to the touch of affection when it comes to call. He knew that now, feeling what he was feeling now.

It was to be known that he was indeed reeling, for something strange and powerful was occurring to him, far from this reality, and yet a part of it to, just there beneath his skin. He feels something small and welcoming warm in himself, so different from the near-death warmth of delusion he felt yesterday, such a horrible yesterday. It is deep and safe, that much is for sure, but pulsing as well, like a tiny, little life. Mozenrath supposed it must be akin to how a mother experienced the presence of her child unborn, the special knowledge of carrying an equally special existence inside. But oh how different _this_ feelings was to that of a baby! How more important to now, to _them. _This was their feeling (Mozenrath knew Aladdin had to feel it too), spurred on by the lover therein. _Their love _maintained it, kept it living, and in an essence, it was their love, so destined to grow and mature, as the years went on.

Something surged in Mozenrath, was he entangled his hand in Aladdin's and they rose together, prepared now for anything, as their whims were satisfied, prepared for the days and tasks ahead. Yes, he will see that it grows, that beautiful, delicate something inside that was all their love in one sensation. And he'll nurture it, yes, until it is invincible, unassailable, perfect, flawless, wonderful, surviving, sustaining, rich, fulfilling, everything they had ever hoped it to be and somehow but surely

Perfect.

"_For You_

_For You"_


	3. See You On The Other Side, Part 1

**I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!**

**I'm ecstatic to be back, ladies and gentlemen. This chapter was very hard coming, which is why I split it into two parts, this is part one. Ahead are scenes of _homosexuality_, thought honestly, not the focus of this chapter, so not graphic. But if you are homophobic, or opposed to that sort of thing, don't read it. Happy Reading!**

Of course, it was things they had_ needed_, he could admit that. He could also understand how fortunate they were to even come across such a lucky thing as a traveling caravan market, spotting it as a colorful, bustling blot on the desert horizon. They couldn't really expect to be able to continue wearing the same threadbare, dusty, sweaty clothes, after all. Aladdin's own vest and pants were barely holding together at the seams, and he just couldn't stitch up the holes fast enough (never minding he didn't even have proper patching supplies).

Besides clothing, they had been desperately hungry and ill-maintained as far as health was concerned. Before Allah had been so guiding as to let them chance upon the booths full of every type of food, all smelling equally delicious to a voracious Aladdin, the memory of their last collective meal was a faraway and wistful thing. Of course it was the wild romanticism to blame for forgetting his hunger, but still, Mozenrath remarked that behind the hearts in his eyes were drumsticks (an amusing trait he shared with one small, chatty primate).

Abu for his part had been wonderful, even though sometimes awkwardly adapting to the strange love affair between his best friend in the world and a man he feared adamantly not so long ago. Of course, he was the first one of Aladdin's friends to offer something besides hostility that day Mozenrath spent with Aladdin in Agrabah. Abu was funny like that. If Mozenrath was fine with Aladdin, he was fine with Abu in most cases. But he missed Genie and Iago; that much was obvious no matter how much Aladdin assured him they would visit and be visited in return.(Though he was hoping he would get a fair warning before such an encounter). And he was still trying out the new ground between him and Mozenrath in his simple way; he did not know how to react around him. He still however, made himself scarce when things became beyond platonic between the two.

In any case, it was all gentle, affectionate ribbing; anyhow, Aladdin was one of those frustrating people who could eat to their heart's content and their appearances not suffer for it. It just made for easy laughs for Mozenrath, another thing he loved about Aladdin. So yes, sustenance and clothing were priorities.

And there were also the other hundreds of little everyday, nitpicky needs they had to be gathered to sustain livelihood and comfort, which led a befuddled Aladdin to consider this…

Yes, they were all quite necessary purchases in their own right, but did he have to carry every last one of them?

He sighed dramatically, stopping once more to rebalance himself and his load of twenty or so wrapped up packages, staggering columns of a hard day's shopping. Abu had taken to the whole matter entirely, and out of the corner of his eye, Aladdin watched Abu disappear from one bag into another with an armload of fruit, chattering excitedly as he explored goodies he considered rightfully part his.

He shifted and grunted, lifted and resituated, as a fierce, cloudless blue sky and white sun glared down, further discomforting his efforts. Granted, however, most of it was for show, his martyricial displays of how noble he was to bear the bundles alone aimed at Mozenrath, who overtook once more as they pressed on across the dunes to the place they were to meet Carpet.

How long had it been, Aladdin lamented inside, since they left the caravans behind? It seemed like forever. He hated shopping with Jasmine, and it was no exaggeration to say he hated shopping with anyone else, perturbed as he was to find that Mozenrath did not share his assumedly universally-male prejudice. Mozenrath was quite at home in the market. And he was quite contented to stride casually by Aladdin's side, hands in his pockets and whistling with satisfaction at nothing in particular but his own good mood, while not lifting a finger.

Aladdin's expression softened, however, as he continued to glance at the sorcerer. Who was he kidding? He loved the man, and was relieved Mozenrath's mood had improved since earlier.

Mozenrath hadn't had been in a bad mood, per say, but after he had inquired to the fate of Xerxes in a sudden thought, Aladdin had to relate to him just what happened to the eel. Of course it would _affect _Mozenrath, Aladdin knew that, but it was confusing too the extent of what it did to Mozenrath. Aladdin never got the impression Mozenrath cared about Xerxes at all, as abusive as he was to him whenever they would encounter, but perhaps he wasn't at the fair place to judge the complexities of their interactions, if he were to remember Mozenrath's memory of Xerxes and his origin. Perhaps there was something more there that only Mozenrath could understand.

In any case, Mozenrath introverted entirely after hearing about Xerxes's death. He wasn't exactly sad, or so Aladdin thought, but he wasn't in the mood to talk either, quietly thoughtful. He was grateful for the distractions of the day in that Mozenrath seemed to become himself again, if not more happily so. Sorcerers; he'd never understand them.

His expression hardened determinedly. Of course too, he wouldn't allow Mozenrath to carry any of it even if he had offered. Given the weight, and Mozenrath's wound, there on his chest, from...He shook his head. No, he didn't want to think about how Mozenrath got it in the first place, but the point being was any strain would clearly increase the chance of the wound reopening. However, since the caravan, perhaps he would heal fully. He remembered back, to he and Mozenrath, strolling down and through the twisting maze of trade booths. Aladdin had looked over, and saw the sorcerer bestride him more clearly than he had yesterday, attracted by a small noise of discomfort the sorcerer issued. Mozenrath was in pain. His eyes saw plainly the cold sweat on Mozenrath's brow, the tightness around his mouth as he fought to ignore it, and the little ways his body bent forward.

And of course, too, the small, growing burgandy stain on his shirt...

Aladdin had panicked, while at the same time violently cursing himself. What sort of idiot couldn't tell the man he loved was in need? He took Mozenrath aside swiftly, quietly, so as not to draw attention, conscious of Mozenrath's uneasiness. He drew him under a darker corner of a large tent selling brass wares, away from the crowd. He leaned him up against the edge of a table, body protectively close as he pulled Mozenrath's shirt up a bit, away from oddly cold and clammy skin. Mozenrath inclined his head and watched under hooded eyes, neither voicing protest nor request. Grimly, Aladdin's estimation proved true. The seam of the wound was slowly but surely splitting ever so slightly, seeping dark, near black blood, the skin around it yellowed with bruising. Mozenrath's lip curled and he made a sound of disgust. Aladdin absentmindedly shushed him as he thought quickly. He looked up.

"Stay here. Don't talk to anyone. I'll be right back, okay?"

Mozenrath looked at him in confusion, but after he nodded, Aladdin was off like a dart, leaving Mozenrath to brace himself awkwardly. He did not have to wait long. Aladdin returned with an elderly, but strong strided man, giving Mozenrath a smile under his white turban, while turning to whispher quietly with Aladdin. Mozenrath's eyes narrowed, and his posture straightened despite his discomfort. The man wasn't particularly menacing looking. He had a long, darkly tanned face, a wiry gray and white beard at the end extending up hollowed cheeks, the man's nose beak like, his eyes small and bright black. They were honest eyes, and a sure, sincere air about him.

But that didn't mean Mozenrath couldn't wonder fiercely what exactly Aladdin was thinking? What did he tell this stranger, his personal business? How could you explain an affliction like his? Would he not be recognized instantly; who would aid a convict? So far they had gotten by Mozenrath's reputation by keeping their head low, collar up, and not drawing attention. Or at least that's what Mozenrath let Aladdin think. Secretly, Mozenrath had put a glimmer on himself, to distort his appearance to passerbys. He didin't tell Aladdin because he knew he would be insufferably worrisome. He had already expressed his distrust and dislike of the gauntlet, he didn't believe it healthy for Mozenrath and he definetly would stubbornly misunderstand that he could do magic without the gauntlet, and even if he _did _use it it wouldn't be alot. Aladdin would bull headedly push that Mozenrath was hurt, and should start acting like it. He inwardly shook his head. Aladdin didn't understand, not about the gauntlet and him. He didn't think he'd ever. But he knew it was bad to start keeping secrets now...He rubbed his arm. He'd make it up to Aladdin, sure he would.

He didn't need to worry about that right now, anyway. The problem lie in that with feeling the pains of his wound now, it was very, very hard to keep the energy up to maintain the glimmer. It might even be slipping off now. They'd be caught!

The man very forwardly, but business like, took his hand and introduced himself quickly as one self proclaimed Doctor Al Tayyib, and did not ask for Mozenrath's name before leading the pair away, Mozenrath allowing himself to hold onto Aladdin's arm at the elbow. He shot Aladdin a look as they passed through tent flaps. Aladdin shrugged in a helpless sort of way.

Al Tayyib took Mozenrath away, leading him to sit in one of the only two chairs under the tent. Mozenrath felt like shooting Aladdin more than just a look as he got a view of the place as the Doctor ducked into a bag ontop of a stained cot. It was hot and humid, almost overwhelmingly so. It stole the breath. The tools Al Tayyib fished from his bag looked battered, but at least to a critical Mozenrath, somewhat clean. Still...he edged away in his seat.

Finally, the silent doctor spoke. He sat himself down in front of Mozenrath.

"Your friend here has told me you recently suffered an injury, and it doesn't seem to be healing well on it's own." his voice was brisk, but hushed without coming out as a whispher.

He paused at Mozenrath's silence, and the measuring expression on his face, the nervous twitch in his fingers.

" I know you know me, old man." Mozenrath said at last, regaining a sense of his old pride and dominance. " I will not be fooled. I assure you, if you vye to take some revenge or retaliation against me now, you will not find it so easy. I may be hurt, but not unable." he continued, ignoring Aladdin's hand on his shoulder and his reprimand.

"Mozenrath!"

Surprisingly, the doctor laughed.

"Ah, well of course I am aware you are a wanted man. Your friend made it clear that he knew it might be an obstacle. If not for his own legacy as Agrabah's hero, actually, I might just attempt to turn you in or harm you in some way."

"But...?" Mozenrath intoned levelly.

Aladdin spoke up.

"Just leave it, Mozenrath. I've...I've got it handled."

Mozenrath cracked a wry smirk.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you and the good doctor at that?"

Aladdin's hand moved from its position on Mozenrath's shoulder, to flirt his fingers with the hair lying in curls at Mozenrath's neck. He smiled warmly.

"Yeah."

Mozenrath looked away stiffly. He thought it was understood; for Aladdin's sake they were to keep the nature of their relationship quiet, right?

Aladdin remembered, on his part, the short, tense procedure itself. Just a needle in thread, a quick wash of the hands in a shallow water basin. His body tensed as Mozenrath peeled the dirty, sweat and blood caked shirt from his body, tensing as he became all too aware of Al Tayyib. It was ridiculous, yes, especially at a time like this, but he couldn't help his body wavering close, catching every minute detail, from the tight line of clenched muscle beneath the smooth white skin on Mozenrath's side as the doctor examined lightly, to the arch of Mozenrath's back as cold, herbal spread as smoothed into the very grit of his wound.

"This is far too deep to have ever been left to heal on it's own. It's a good thing you decided to come forward before it rotted off your fool body." the doctor said sternly, though mostly to himself as he removed a needle, long and silver. Mozenrath would have spared the time to be offended, if he hadn't had been interested in the knowing look Al Tayyib gave Aladdin, and Aladdin's look of uncertainity. How much did he know?

Aladdin threw all of his insecurities to the wind as he dropped to his knees beside Mozenrath, lacing his fingers in the sorcerer's hand, holding it firmly as the doctor's 'quick stitch job' began. Mozenrath appreciated it, but then again, he was too busy feeling every second of the needle pushing into his skin. He had felt worse before, hadn't he, he thought, with grim humor. His jaw loosened, and focused instead on turning to look down on Aladdin beside him, flexing his fingers experimentally in Aladdin's warm hold.

He didn't notice the doctor proclaim he was done, too busy was he watching the small bead of sweat on Aladdin's lip, the taunt line of his body. He stood, examining for his own the doctor's handiwork. It was a neat job, not perfect, but neat. He fished for his shirt and put it back on, perturbed to find when he was done, Aladdin was just returning from a last minute conversation with the doctor.

"Lets go."

The rest of the days shopping was passed in Mozenrath's questions, and Aladdin's dodging of those questions. What did he pay him? How did he pay him? What was said? What deal did he strike? Aladdin waved him off in a thousand different ways, from charmingly elluding, to slightly irritated. Okay, Mozenrath resolved, Aladdin obviousely didn't want to talk about it right then. He would wait until a more..._persuasive _time to get the answers he wanted.

Aladdin was all too aware of what he did to convince Al Tayyib. Al Tayyib, in the kindest way he knew, insisted when Aladidn first approached him, that he was not running a charity. Aladdin had no money of his own, and it would be a great amount to willingly abet a known criminal like Mozenrath, especially to keep quiet about Aladdin's involvement. And then again, there was the persuasion to not ask what nature of a wound Mozenrath had...

Al Tayyib knew of Aladdin, knew of his escapades, and especially the company he kept. He knew about Genie. Aladdin earnestly promised should Al Tayyib help them, he could be assured a favor from the dinjin. He was his friend, he'd do it. He even went so far as to write a scribbled note to Genie on Al Tayyib's behalf, swearing backwards and forewards he could be trusted.

Al Tayyib bit.

Aladdin's guilt, however, gnawed on him. How could he be sure Genie woud reward Al Tayyib, especially after all that happened? He couldn't, and it was selfish to use his long time friend as a bargaining tool. He was out on his own now, he shouldn't be relying on the friends he forsake to pull him out of sticky situations. But the biggest thing for him was this...

He was a man, shouldn' t a man be able to take care of the one he loves on his own?

He didn't want to admit his failure, the failure he felt in his mind, to Mozenrath. And he knew Mozenrath wouldn't like the idea of being in Genie's debt. He didn't have to know, right? He knew it was bad tidings to keep secrets, but that still didn't mean he wasn't forced too. He'd be honest when things got easier.

And perhaps things were looking up, he thought brightly. Mozenrath seemed to be doing better. His good mood was infectious, as well as rare. But that didn't mean Aladdin didn't feel a bit of overprotectiveness. To test the fortitude of the stitches by carrying any sort of load would be foolhardy.

But that didn't mean he couldn't ham it up a bit. He sighed dramatically, grunting and panting as he made a great show of stopping again to resettle his load, eyeing Mozenrath to see if he'd get the message. It was after all, insufferably hot and heavy. Faithfully, Mozenrath threw back a reply.

"Oh give it a rest, Aladdin; it can't be all that bad." He said dismissively, inclining his head to look, which naturally betrayed the supposed coldness of his statement with the tell tale gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"Says the man who refuses to help." Aladdin retorted pointedly.

"Pfft. Manual labor is beneath me, you know that." he replies with an aristocratic arch of his brow, a small tilt of his lips. Aladdin shook his head. "You're impossible".

"Perhaps…" Mozenrath mused, surprising Aladdin with a firm tap to his younger partner's nose. He laughed good-naturedly when Aladdin's big brown eyes crossed reflexively at the gesture. "…But I bought everything; you can carry it."

At this, Aladdin squirmed, smile dropping away instantly. He didn't want it to bother him, honestly, he didn't. Nothing hurtful was really meant by what Mozenrath said, or at least not purposefully, he was sure of that. And besides, it was an old wound he should have got over by now. He should be a man and just ignore it. But Allah be damned he still couldn't stand how forsakenly poor he was sometimes, and the feeling had grown and mutated to various forms of desolation as their day's activities had worn on.

It was just that they had so much to do that he really didn't think the issue of money would come up at all. Actually, he didn't suppose anything but his and Mozenrath's enjoyment of each other's company. He could almost smile again, thinking about that, in a fool, hapless way. Yesterday was a blur, but an insanely gratifying one at that. If he could have, he would have laid down forever by Mozenrath, intwined loosely in his arms, and Mozenrath in his as they whiled away the day.

His face grew even more heated and he ducked the look on his face away as a memory of a different sort surfaced fresh in his mind. They had a really needed that bath, and the oasis they sought out before coming upon the caravan provided such a spot. Aladdin froze in the sand, however, as he and Mozenrath's laughter and talk died, as Carpet kindly flew off to give them privacy. He watched as Mozenrath set his turban aside, and slid the wrap from his neck, and reached for the hem of his shirt. He shook himself internally. Why the hell should he be nervous disrobing in front of Mozenrath, and having Mozenrath disrobe in front of him? He was a man, a man who had lain with his share of women, who was no shy school boy. And Mozenrath was his now, and he Mozenrath's all the same. He laughed at his foolishness, and lunged forward, knocking Mozenrath into the aquamarine pool just as he removed his last sock.

It was cold, and it was good...


	4. Just A Moment Aside

**Alright kiddies, here's a new batch of warnings for you. While this is in no way a full out hump fest, I admit that this chapter has CLEAR HOMOSEXUALITY. Please, for both our sakes, if you don't approve of that sort of thing, just...DON'T READ. Okay?**

**For everyone else...Suprise! Thought I would never write anything like this, didn't you? This is the inbetween chapter between _See You On The Other Side _and the upcoming _See You On The Other Side, Part 2. _**

_"...And Mozenrath was his now, and he Mozenrath's all the same. He laughed at his foolishness, and lunged forward, knocking Mozenrath into the aquamarine pool just as he removed his last sock._

_It was cold, and it was good..."_

Mozenrath broke the surface with a hard breath, his air knocked out of his lungs by the sheer iciness of the water. It was refreshing though...

He wrapped his arms around him lightly, shivering a bit as he looked about for sign of Aladdin. His brow furrowned when he saw neither hide nor hair of his partner. The oasis was quiet, broken occasionaly only by the chirruping of nearby fauna or the rustle of the leaves on the few, precious trees shading the dappled water. Suddenly, Mozenrath suddenly felt something urgently tapping on his senses and tried to spin around in alarm, only to found himself grabbed around the waist from under the water and pulled in to be engulfed by water. He furiousely tried to duck the head of the offending hero underwater deeper, and continued his battle as they broke surface sputtering, though Aladdin was sputtering through his laughter.

" You bear a striking resemblance to a drowned duck once your grace leaves you in the water, Moze!" Aladdin taunted as he squirmed and backpedalled away from Mozenrath's reach as the sorcerer went for him in a very predatory manner. Well Aladdin was a bit unpracticed as a swimmer himself, but Mozenrath knew he had to prove himself. Besides, it was always nice to show off a little. Aladdin watched appreciatively as Mozenrath dived gracefully under the water, the smooth muscles in his back rippling breifly under porcelain skin accentuated by the rippling turquoise water. He grinned wirely and made for the bank.

He had come here to bathe and so he would; leave Mozenrath to his games. He laughed to himself good humoredly as he rumaged in the pack they had brought for some soap and stilled as he heard water break, the sound of gentle footsteps, and a pair of arms encircle his waist and pull him back against a firm, wet chest. His breath fluttered to his throat and his eyes closed, feeling ever inch of the other man against him, aware of every minute detail, almost agonizingly aware, from the smooth surity of bare, solid flesh, to the measure of force the arms about him pressed, to something that caught him off guard, a certain prodding in his lower back...

He inhaled sharply, hand automatically flinging back to palm the expanse of Mozenrath's leg behind him.

"Mozenrath..."

"Come now Aladdin, " Mozenrath adminstered with a lazy smile on his face as he leaned down to gently nuzzle behind Aladdins ear, "Take the revenge you've been asking for like a man". Aladdin's head spun. This was fast, but he didn't suppose his body, the painfully rapid beats of his heart would let him pull away and regain control of the situation. But that was it. He didn't have control of the situation. Perhaps it was only fair. Perhaps he has been overestimating, or underestimating, or something, but it was true, Aladdin may have had a fair share of relationships and conquests under his belt, but Mozenrath had leverage, he had experience...

Which was exactly the source of Mozenrath's small, internal smile as he slid his hand up Aladdin's stomach, brushing his shaking side, to his neck to finally turn his face ever so slightly, so as to have a place to press a small kiss next to his temple. Aladdin's eyes shut, and his fingers dug into Mozenrath's thigh. It was Mozenrath's privelage to know Aladdin's body felt distinctly young, body in that inbetween stage between manhood and youth. The legs his own legs minutely touched-

" I know, " Aladdin began deliberately, his voice barely there, the little wind from his lips brushing Mozenrath's shoulder, " I said I wanted to wait, " he stopped to swallow thickly, "but that doesn't mean..."

-were toned, and tight, corded with all the muscle of someone who spent his life running ; the abdomen under which his fingertips passed was firm, and he let his hands roave a bit more freely when Aladdin surprised him by turning down his chin to bring him in for a slow, explorative kiss, he discovered a part of Aladdin was definetly not a boy any longer.

But there was a certain soft, young smoothness in the hero's cheek as Mozenrath coaxed Aladdin to press flush up against him, to find purchase in him, and a teenage, hormonal burst of passion as his fingers twisted in the curls on the back of Mozenrath's neck, and trying, rewetting lips sought his with a powerful desperation as Mozenrath gripped suddenly in strong fingers his bottom's curve, though at the same time pushing and manuevering with the hand _not _in Mozenrath's hair. The combined force sent Mozenrath astumble backwards, and he used to the force to bring Aladdin's down amongst his sprawled, tangled legs.

Yes, he decided, there was a certain youthful quality Aladdin could not dispell with bravery and the stubborn walks of man, as he made a keening, wanting moan that didn't quite stay in his throat in reply to Mozenrath's pleased hum as the sorcerer, after pressing a chaste kiss to his abused lips, kissed and worked his way down the column of Aladdin's taunt, strained neck, feeling the flutter of a pulse as he traveled from his neck to his shoulder. His new lover, his new _partner _was to be savored in every sense of the word, to not fall prey to the lusting, desperate rush of those yearning desires. Mozenrath knew all too well the irony of feeling so unwanted your whole life, then throwing yourself at that ripping away of innocence.

Aladdin's heated gasp raked across his cheek as his body bent like a body, his forehead on Mozenrath's shoulder as Mozenrath manipulated his thighs to spread for him.

"Mozenrath!"

Mozenrath felt his face cupped in two warm, blazing palms and tilted to look up, a quick, urgent kiss pressed to his mouth. His heart sunk, if just for a minute, for he knew it was a kiss of apology. Aladdin's eyes met his full force, and he was momentarily enraptured in discovering the condition of the hero now as illustrated by the ilustratious, rich wave of dark rose from his nose to his cheeks, and the hotness on his neck. He saw too, the silken glaze on his eyes, and the furrow in his brow, and the rapid rise of his chest, and the purse in his lips.

"Mozenrath, we said..."

Mozenrath sighed, but not in a sad way. That would worry Aladdin, now wouldn't it? And made to stand.

"Yes, I know we said."

Aladdin rubbed his arm self consciousely, still eyeing Mozenrath, still watching for any betraying facial expression. It hurt him, yes, but he still hoped it was best to keep to your convictions, wasn't it? He groaned inwardly, knowing what state stopping now would leave him in, but sacrifices, right? Mozenrath, for his part, seemed reassuringly nonchantly, though his hand passed over his stomach longingly, wistfully.

He jolted Aladdin out of his oncoming awkwardness with a light, playful shove to his arm.

"Come in kid, get your ass back in the water and wash that grass stain off your butt."

Aladdin laughed as he followed Mozenrath back into the pool.


	5. See You On The Other Side, Part 2

Aladdin laughed softly, shaking his head, as if trying to shake the thoughts, as nicely distracting as they were, from his head and the blush from his cheeks. It would not do, he supposed, to loose himself in memories of that calibur. His wryer side added : _Yes, especially in plain sight, in front of him, with a two ton load on your back and rapidly crisping barbeque for skin. _He grimaced; point taken. Somehow, the shifting, sliding motion of the pack was tightening his shirt on his back, and making the surly glare of the sun all that more stinging. He supposed he could last for a bit longer, well he knew he could. It did not mean, however, that he wasn't getting tired, if just a little bit. He had been walking in silence, he noticed, for quite a while, caught up in his own thoughts. With anyone else, he would have been pressured to talk. He would have felt pressured to keep the conversation ever lively, ever flowing, if just to keep the other person interested.

It wasn't that way with Mozenrath. It was so refreshing ; Mozenrath just _got _him. He understood, he connected. He appreciated the little silences, and knew sometimes it was best to let them sit, and ferment into something rich. He'd put his hands in his pockets, and do his own thing and Aladdin felt there was no need to speak, and Aladdin would always do the same for him.

He smiled warmly at the other man, who didn't chance to catch his eye. Mozenrath seemed to be doing some musing on his own, looking high off at nothing, his lips, moving very, very minutely, as if forming words he did not care to speak. Aladdin was amused. Just another quirk he loved to learn about the sorcerer.

He looked off searchingly over the next couple of dunes. Was that the rock they were supposed to meet Carpet at? If not, how far would it be? He wanted to get back to Morbia, back to their little house. His hands itched to get to work on perhaps fixing up and rennovating the place. First, somehow patch up the walls right? Clean it, refurbish it, get some proper furniture in there, fill it with their belongings, their home stuffs. All the little things that made life liveable and specific from person to person. To make it home. To toss roots into the sand and pack them down tight.

It was a huge and staggering idea. Would they really live there together from now on? A great, swelling euphoria blossomed in him, as he lost himself in visions of he and Mozenrath, laboring away in hearty company at a foundation for their new life, their relationship.

Or at least he did until the world lurched under his feet, his legs buckling, and gravity played havoc with his shopping bundle.

"Oh for the love of..."

He caught himself from finishing his statement, and Mozenrath was somehow there immedietly, a steady hand on his stomach and back, righting him, reassuring him. Mozenrath went about fully relieving Aladdin off his bundle with a stern expression on his face.

"Hey! -" Aladdin began, fearing Mozenrath would take some of it on his own. That's when he noticed Mozenrath was only taking some of it off, setting it on the sand, and stepping back. He gave Aladdin a quick, cocky smile, and before Aladdin knew it, the bundles were gone, leaving only a circle of blue in the sand.

"Well that takes care of that, you overstimulated ball of testosterone. If you're going to kill yourself, spare yourself the humiliation and don't do it with shopping in your arms." He said goadingly, looking pleased

Aladdin was torn between amusement, the urge to retort, and a nagging discomfort. Mozenrath used his gauntlet, an action that was somehow triggering that same response more and more lately...

Mozenrath caught his look, and though in a strange way bothered himself, tried to laugh it off, apathy his greatest weapon.

"Don't worry hero, I just sent that on forward to Morbia to lighten the load. I refuse to carry you should you pass out." He slipped into a haughty facade. _And I know you don't like my magic, do you? I guess it wouldn't help to ask you why? _Mozenrath pressed the smile that came next.

" I don't know whether to feel offended or relieved " Aladdin replied mildly.

Mozenrath, genuinly amused, joined him in his laughter.

"You know," Aladdin added, "we could just have rode Carpet there and back..."

"No, no way. I don't trust that thing"

"Mozenrath, " Aladdin asked with a lilt of teasing and exasperation in his voice, "is it the heights thing?"

"..."

" I told you we don't have to fly too high. "

" Now don't give me that tone, Aladdin." he said enforcingly. He straightened his posture.

"It's only common sense to hesitate hopping aboard a piece of upholstry miles above the ground. One day you're going to fall on that fool head." he finished stiffly.

"Awww, Come on Mozenrath. Do we have to walk all the way to Morbia? A nice carpet ride would be refreshing..."

Wryly, Mozenrath considered pointing out the irony of pulling out old dating schemes to Aladdin. Whether chasing skirts, or chasing trousers, Aladdin was always chasing, he surmised, half prophetically, half jokingly.

Mozenrath started at Aladdin's finishing statement.

"And we could fly real low to the ground, nice and slow." He grinned impishly; all that was missing from the expression was waggling eyebrows.

Mozenrath didn't miss the connotation and nudged Aladdin's arm.

"Watch yourself fly boy."

Aladdin raised both eyebrows at that.

" Fly boy? " he echoed.

Mozenrath ignored Aladdin and his smile quite effectively.

"Besides, puttering around inches above the ground doesn't exactly demonstrate dignity."

Aladdin snorted in laughter.

"Now you forget, dear Aladdin, we could have travelled _my_ way. With my magic it would have been instant."

He said it a bit proudly, yes. He was, after all, a skilled sorcerer and necromancer in his own right, with or without the gauntlet, as a matter of fact. Every respectable man had to have a profession, something they were singularly good at. This was Mozenrath's. Magic, necromancy, all of the sciences included...his life had revolved around them, and they were ever present, even so far from his lab. So far, Aladdin had only seen base skills. He was almost excited to educate him. He knew it was...well a vulnerable point for Aladdin, that is, his intelligence, having it mocked and scorned (even by himself at some points). Yes, sometimes he could be simple, but not in a bad way, persay. He just rarely overanalyzed or explored the deeper things.

Mozenrath frowned. Perhaps it was better that way sometimes, for peace of mind, at least. Aladdin thought with his heart a great deal of the time, not with his head. But people didn't give him enough credit, he thought defensively. He knew he himself was guilty of that sometimes. Aladdin was a quick, empassionated, resourceful learner, and an eager one too.

He gave Aladdin a off-put look as Aladdin made a face, putting his load down and putting his hands in his pockets.

"What?" Mozenrath asked, looking down into his partner's face.

Aladdin shrugged somewhat tightly, going to pick his burden back up, when a hard hand gripped his upper arm and pulled him forcefully back up, his spine snapping to attention at the rough handling and shock. He was forced to face Mozenrath eye to eye, in that way.

He gaped, eyes widening in shock at this...unpredictable, seemingly un-caused show of agression. It only hurt a little, but still...

"What?" Mozenrath repeated, this time more insistent, his eyes searching Aladdin's, his lips tight, body rigid. "What, what's wrong?"

Aladdin only stared, and by the movement of his lips, the searching stutter, and the attempt to look away, Mozenrath knew anything to escape his mouth was doomed to be a lie and a excuse. A spark ignited at the thought.

"Tell me," and this time, it was a demand, as he shook Aladdin by the arm, "Speak."

Aladdin's eyes closed for a minute, riding the impossible situation that those were indeed Mozenrath's fingers gripping the flesh of his arm uncaringly, that it was indeed Mozenrath who looked so wanting to strike him.

"Nothing." he said quickly, still not meeting Mozenrath's eyes. "Look, Mozenrath, what do you want me to say?" He said, exasperated, starting to forget that he was held and pinioned.

Mozenrath heaved a great sigh, rolling his eyes.

"The truth." he said simply.

Aladdin winced, but before he could stop himself, he started to blurt out helplessly.

"It's just that. I'm just not...comfortable with your magic." he finished lamely. " It's unsettling. I can't explain it. It's just that, from the days we fought each other, seriously, I just felt defeated when you could wield that over me. I felt trapped, defenseless. It's not a feeling I am used to; a feeling I'd rather not experience again. "

Mozenrath almost choked against the knot in his throat, looking at Aladdin in upset betrayal.

"And you think I'm dangerous? That I'd hurt you again, given the chance? Is that it?"

"No! No! For Allah's sake, don't _turn it_ that way." Aladdin exclaimed, feeling the situation spiral out of his control. "Look, it's me okay? Can we end it? It's me, I'm just weird, alright?"

Mozenrath surprised him, as his face was lost to Aladdin, his forehead falling to rest on Aladdin's, his eyes shadowed by the curtain of his bangs. His fierce fingers left Aladdin's bruished flesh, and apologetically went to the small of his back, pulling him gently close, holding him.

Aladdin held his breath.

The tone of Mozenrath's voice tore Aladdin's heart into ragged shreds. It was...guilty, despairing, hurt, tight with withheld emotion.

"You don't...fear Genie's magic. It's hurt you before." he said, a desperate sentiment.

"Oh Mozenrath, just...forget it for me please?" Aladdin said with an equal, measured amount of effort, "I'll work it out on my own." Aladdin said wantingly, his fingers playing with Mozenrath's collar unconsciously.

Mozenrath felt the light touches brush his collar bone. He cupped the side of Aladdin's face, brushing a barely there kiss at his temple.

"That doesn't mean I can't try to fix what's wrong."

Aladdin sighed, gentler this time, and on impulse, fisted Mozenrath's shirt in his fingers, tugging him down for a kiss, Mozenrath using the hand on Aladdin's back to pull him closer, a satisfied sound passing through their sealed lips.

Satisfied, until a loud outcry brought their world crashing to a halt.

"Whore! Infidels!"


	6. The Darkest Side of Me

_Aladdin sighed, gentler this time, and on impulse, fisted Mozenrath's shirt in his fingers, tugging him down for a kiss, Mozenrath using the hand on Aladdin's back to pull him closer, a satisfied sound passing through their sealed lips._

_Satisfied, until a loud outcry brought their world crashing to a halt._

_"Whore! Infidels!"_

It was strange. So much had happened to seal their fates, such a dizzying spiral of events from then to now. And yet, as Mozenrath watched a sole spider scuttle into his dark little hole, and the feeling of cold and grime seeped through his clothes, he remembered just a small moment. It was nothing special, at least not in the face of what got him here, drowning in silence and painful isolation, but it was the instant when he and Aladdin first heard that rude outcry sail across the desert that he remembered the clearest.

In reality, both would reflect on exactly how they broke apart, in shock and in surprise, startled as they were by the brash, nameless insults barking out from the desert. Well, at least Mozenrath knew it was only shock that sent him from Aladdin with a push. But who pushed? He looked at Aladdin, whose body was tense, defensive, alert, whose eyes were scanning for the source of the voice. Mozenrath's body gave a wanting, disappointed sigh, though outwardly, he echoed Aladdin's sentiments.

"Who the hell was that?" Yes, that was right; his voice sounded aggressive enough, even angry, for someone interrupting their time, a rude violation of casual privacy. Angry for someone catching him off guard, an unwanted and unregulated feeling.

"There!" Aladdin was the first to see them, and his posture became all the riper for confrontation.

It was not, in actuality, a voice, but several voices, the swelling sound of a scattered crowd moving on the horizon they had came from, and judging by the dust kicked up, horses and feet carried them alike. They must have come from the caravan market, Mozenrath decided inwardly. What else was in that direction? Well, there was Agrabah itself, too far to be seen, but perhaps a mile or two behind the traveling caravan. Could they have gotten themselves that close to so dangerous territory? If so, not intentionally, not by a long shot.

Aladdin too was assessing exactly what danger they were in with their new, sure-sped company. Eyes trained to judge combat and confrontation counted about 15 or so individuals, in similar, dark clothing. Those on horses carried packages of their own, and he too figured out they must have come from the open-air market. So why come to them? Why insult them, if indeed the shouts came from them. A horrifying possibility struck him cruelly, as if a blow from behind.

"So hero, what exactly do you want to do?" Mozenrath drawled quietly to Aladdin. Yet he did not face him, as meter by meter closed between the incoming group of men and the pair. They would be upon them in a matter of minutes. Too late to run? But run from what?

He suddenly felt very indignant. He was Mozenrath, Lord of the Black Sands and a powerful sorcerer in his own right. What did some group of violence-minded men matter to him? With his gauntlet and inane skill, it would be child's play to eradicate any danger. So why the flash of fear, uncharacteristic of himself? Then he knew he was picking up on some of Aladdin's own feelings, a gentle empathy, and he could tell by a quick look to his partner he was the source of rising panic.

Aladdin had seen now, the truth, the awful realization. Oh, to not recognize the black and gold uniforms and the white turbans! What he wouldn't give to not identify the all too familiar bulky captain at the lead! He was riveted to the spot, seemingly oblivious to Mozenrath's presence as he muttered in horror.

"Oh no, oh no no no…"

"What now?" Mozenrath asked, peering into Aladdin's face. He was unconcerned now about their impeding guests (closer, closer), but more concerned about the furrow in Aladdin's brow. Aladdin was rarely afraid in his own right. So what if the situation was strange, he was capable enough.

"This can't be happening," Aladdin groaned. Not even his luck was this bad. What to do? His face started a steady flood of fire that would heat his entire body in humiliation and distress.

"Palace guards. Mozenrath, it's the Sultan's soldiers! Oh man, what are we going to do?"

Mozenrath's expression twisted in scorn as he looked at Aladdin incredulously.

"So? What of them? They hardly pose a threat. Between us both we could easily dispose of them. A minor nuisance at best," Mozenrath dismissed easily.

Aladdin did not answer him, merely groaned once more between clenched teeth, eyes still hopelessly captivated to the front as they were finally set upon. Mozenrath just didn't understand, and it was too late to say more. It was falling out of his control again, and every pessimistic possibility in his mind was flowering before him.

The guards seated on horses immediately circled them into a tight ring, barring the way with their gleaming swords, unfriendly expressions, and rearing horses. Again, Mozenrath was unconcerned, and stood as such lazily eyeing them over with his back in casual, yet meticulously straight posture. It was hard not to slip in this mode of his when people he didn't especially care about were around. He had just got to the point where he wouldn't subject Aladdin to the same cold, scorning treatment, because he felt comfortable around him. Aladdin had earned that.

But to Mozenrath? Idiots from Agrabah were just that, idiots, and had wasted his time before more conspicuously than this. Besides, it was something else entirely to have Aladdin on his side, a wall of comfort behind him. He smirked to himself.

Rasoul strode up through a break in the circle the horsemen made for him, with his closest men right behind him. Rasoul stopped, basking in the quiet, save for the agitated snorts of the horses, and the shifts of his soldier's feet. His thumbs were hooked in his belt, and his grin was somewhat unstable, in Aladdin's opinion, as he surveyed them. It was an indiscernible expression. Mirth? Hate? What was it, Mozenrath wondered, that stretched his smile unnaturally tight, or his eyes alight with movement?

"I have to tell you street rat, seeing it was you, and of course _this_," he gestured offhandedly, almost dismissively at Mozenrath, who bristled, " that my men and I saw really surprised me." He raised an eyebrow at Aladdin in challenge, who currently looked like he very much wanted to sink through the sand into oblivion. It somehow chagrined Mozenrath, to a small effect, and he frowned at his partner. Why wasn't Aladdin standing his own?

Rasoul continued, despite the near-automatic, steady flare emitting from Mozenrath's gauntlet. Rasoul's men seemed a bit nervous, knowing the offensive the sorcerer launched, but the Captain of the Guards seemed a man motivated beyond conventional fear.

"Now don't get me wrong. In a lot of ways, this doesn't surprise me in the least. I always knew there was something…_funny _about you boy, something…_abnormal._" He granted Aladdin a pleased smile. The chuckles that bubbled from Rasoul's men and the slicing quality of his words wrenched a pained noise from Aladdin's throat. And yet still, he did not speak, though his lips worked like he so desperately wanted to.

Frowning once more at his partner's strange behavior, Mozenrath rose to confront Rasoul.

"Ah well, then I suppose it's a good thing that your opinion doesn't matter in the slightest. Now be a good Neanderthal, and run along before you cause me to do something _unpleasant_." He offered his own slick, seemingly harmless smile in return. Rasoul's men visibly flinched, remembering all too well the havoc this sorcerer could reek.

Rasoul turned to look at Mozenrath, and in an insulting way, seemed to notice him for the first time. His expression wrinkled, and his nostrils flared as he stared down the sorcerer. The gleaming, opalescent tip of his sword sung out from it's sheath, to point at Mozenrath.

"I wouldn't be drawing attention to myself, if I were you, sorcerer. You're a wanted criminal, despite whatever the Sultan says to fool himself, and a sickness that plagues this desert." It was almost as if Aladdin's gaze, pained, sympathetic, took on a frantic volume as he watched his lover withstand his assault. "This new perversity doesn't surprise me in the least."

Morally impassioned, one of Rasoul's men cried out angrily, and like a wave of heat, other's succumbed to the influences of their youth, their culture, those in their lives, and their education.

"Embracing a man like one should a woman!"

"Plead for Allah's mercy!"

"Foul!"

"Disgusting…"

"We saw your little encounter just now, boys…", Rasoul said nastily. "Hard to miss actually. Almost like a beacon of sin, shinning across the sand." His eyes seemed to flash in the glassy, harsh light compounded with the motionless air.

"But…" Aladdin began lamely, is voice small, choked, his face an uncomfortable red, the impact of his person made small by an infiltrating feeling. Mozenrath felt his confidence sink, if only under the surface. Was Aladdin feeling ashamed? Dare he be ashamed of him, of _them_?

A rage, a betrayal, a slow, dull, permanent pain, and a burst of fire in his head overtook him. He became an instrument of the feeling, a plaything in the fiery hurt that gusted from him, and a thousands voices screamed inside him, in anguish, in anger, all of it somehow directed with violence at Rasoul and Aladdin both. He had been failed, he had been…misled. This comfort-game Aladdin played with him was near intolerable…he fed him this _lov_e, this _beauty_ at the intervals he did for the sole purpose of making moments like this all the more painful!

Every unbearable, sudden wave crashed against his chest, and his whole being swelled with it, until his inner torrent manifested itself. The soldier's horses tossed their heads and screeched, as black tendrils snaked from the earth beneath their panicked feet. It winded around their powerful legs. The very ground shook, and the sky dimmed. Mozenrath felt…beyond himself.

"Your judgments stop here and now!" His voice carried loud, strong, impossible to ignore, over the calls of confusion and fear. Black, crackling blue light disrupted the air about his hands and his face. Rasoul's men struggled to dismount the horses and secure their cargoes before their beasts overthrew them in panic. In an apocalyptic show of power, the sky darkened, if only a fraction. "I'll hear no more of your _opinions_. Find someone who will listen to them in the next life!" The oozing black magic contracted, and the horses, frothing in fear, were brought to their nears, crushing the slowest of Rasoul's soldiers beneath them.

Rasoul, to his credit, did not let his fear paralyze him. He stepped from his own disabled horse and grabbed both of his curved scimitars, poised at his side like some rogue, ape-like vigilante. He bared down upon the pair, menacing, growing in size and in impression of danger.

Mozenrath stared down at Aladdin's arm as it gripped his wrist. "Mozenrath, let's just leave. I don't care where." He paused, and stared up with as much sincerity as this moment of duress could yield. "Please." Mozenrath's countenance softened. Perhaps…perhaps he had been too swift in his judgment of Aladdin. Perhaps there was more to his newly fledged insecurity. Whatever the case, it was hard to ignore Aladdin when he was like this…artless, this dear and devout, with searching wanting eyes, and his hand on Mozenrath.

Mozenrath picked up the edge of his cape, and tugged it, meaning to cover both he and Aladdin, transporting them away from this wrecking of man, magic and beast. Even while the blue, fine cloth of his cape obscured their view, Mozenrath knew something was wrong. Their perception of the world around them was violently befuddled, and Rasoul's voice roared out, amid the confusion of color and time.

"You think it's that easy? This isn't over; Not by a long shot!"

That's when Rasoul's hand snatched Aladdin roughly, yanked him back from the the upset warmth of Mozenrath's body, mid-magical transfer. Mozenrath only had time for a brief flash of panic.

"No! You can't interrupt this!" Rasoul's hand someone found its way through magic around them, and caught his throat. Then everything faded, the rushing, water noise of angered, botched magic, the screaming of dying soldiers, and even Aladdin's body, there at his side.


	7. The Darkest Side of Me, Part 2

"Mozenrath!" His voice was calling out to him. _Loudly_. Or at least it felt that loud behind his eyelids. It's volume climbed to a near-unbearable pitch within the confines of Mozenrath's pain-confused mind. The relentless barrage of noise and motion, screaming, sun, and dizzy sky. He moaned in irritated discomfort, and put a hand to his head. It felt strange to him, hot but damp, with sand buried in his fingernails. As if apart from himself, he seemed to notice his ears ringing, and Aladdin was still calling for him.

"Mozenrath! Come on!" An urgent tone, a brown, broad hand reaching down for him. He had opened his eyes, and winced. There was Aladdin, loyal, permanent, stable Aladdin reaching out a hand to pull him up from off his back. He must have blacked out. He groaned once more as he was (as gently as possible) hurriedly pulled to his feet, and his world spun. And what a world…

"Something happened, Rasoul interrupted your magic, and it caused some sort of explosion. We both went out. I only woke up a minute ago. We haven't been down long. Look, I don't know if you trust trying it again, but they're starting to rise…" Aladdin watched grimly, clinically, as the significantly slower, recovering forms of the harangued soldiers pulled themselves from the wreckage of bloodstained, fear-churned sand and overturned horses. Their once proud, frothing steeds kicked at a ridiculously blue sky, long past the hope of rising.

Mozenrath clenched and unclenched his gauntleted hand. "I suppose it's pretty safe to say they'll be out for blood this time. Ironic, that last little fiasco wasn't exactly our fault." He said with bitter humor. "My magic seems to be doing fine, though it feels strange…" His ivory forehead, dotted finely with drops of sweat and sand furrowed as he stared down at his hands in consternation. He blinked in surprise as Aladdin laid a hand over his own. It was more a method of getting Mozenrath's attention than a gesture of sentimentality, but the gentle practicality, the knowing way those calloused fingers squeezed his, touched him nonetheless.

"Listen Mozenrath. I want you to do something for me. Please." His eyes searched Mozenrath's, holding his gaze, and despite the resentment still churning for Aladdin in his injured heart, he had his attention. The sincerity was there, the same open-faced, innocence and honesty, the simple kindness and needing that made Mozenrath a man awe-filled, the quality quite unlike his own.

He must have replied or perhaps his face said it all, that he was willing, always willing, to follow Aladdin through the darkest remnants of the world and beyond.

"Please, please don't use your magic, or if you have too, don't let it get out of hand. I don't want any more deaths on our hands. Please don't kill, not again, not anymore."

Mozenrath stared; so inconceivable was Aladdin's request. Did he think he meant to kill these men? But even as he speculated, he knew it was true. This could be over in a matter of seconds. They were down, near out, and even as they gathered their weapons, even as Rasoul impassioned his crew to a fury near righteous, it could all be over, this blot on their day, their week, and their year, erased with a simple finality. His magic, so many spells he knew with the barest of efforts, all finely crafted to the art of slaughter. Even a simple blast from his gauntlet would do. But the situation had come to this.

"Aladdin, I don't think you understand. They mean to kill us."

"I know Mozenrath, but I'm not going to let that happen. I promise. But we are not killers. Don't you see? That's what they see us as, the lowest of the low, animals and monsters. We're better than that. _We're_ good people, and if we're not, we are capable of it. Don't worry; it doesn't have to come to killing. Come on Moze," he grinned, audaciously lighthearted for the danger they were in, though perhaps it was a front for Mozenrath's sake, always, always for Mozenrath's sake. "You and I both know we're unstoppable."

We're. A single, simple, incidental word, and yet Mozenrath clung to it, as some proof to his cynical side that Aladdin did not deserve his disappointment, his resignation. Aladdin had not failed, or if he had, did he not have the right, all the wrongs Mozenrath himself had committed? This, he tried hard to believe.

He smiled back at Aladdin, a moment barely spared.

"Alright hero, you win. I promise." He halfheartedly shoved Aladdin with his elbow as they readied themselves for the onslaught. "Even though common sense, practicality, and logic practically _scream _otherwise."

Mozenrath watched as Aladdin knelt, stern but expressionless, all joking gone, by the corpse of a fallen soldier. He knew he could not let his guard down, and turning only slightly, tore up the ground yet again to fell the soldiers, though gently to do no real bodily harm. So be it; their goal was to get the guards to back down. He gave Aladdin a considering look. He knew what was running through his young lover's mind as he stared down into a stiff, cold face. It didn't matter that the dead soldier was never an acquaintance of his in life, Aladdin was ill suited to all death. It was an empathy he could admire, if never fully understanding.

He watched as Aladdin unsheathed the sword almost tenderly from the guard's armaments, and hand it to Mozenrath. Mozenrath weighed it in his hands. It was light, a fine, agile sword, un-curved, unadorned. Aladdin was aware Mozenrath's sword skills were rusty, but this was a weapon easily handled. Aladdin himself held a torn off piece of wood, about three quarters the length of his own body. It was a lightweight, relatively peaceful weapon, used for incapacitating, not killing necessarily. It became even better when Mozenrath took it from Aladdin's hands, slammed it into the sand and with a sharp crack, the wood fragment was now a full fledged fighting baton, smoothed away from any splintering and jagged edges. He enjoyed Aladdin's brief look of amazement, but nudged him to face their opponents.

"Brace yourself." He barely managed to get out before they were set upon.

For the first confused moments, Mozenrath found himself in chaos. There was the flash of swords, cutlasses, daggers, all assortments of knives, cudgels and cruder weapons. Fists flew, and there were cries of rage and of pain, and it disturbed Mozenrath to notice the one was not distinguishable from the other. There was no other thrill like it, that of fear, of nerves, of pumping adrenaline. He felt quite outside of himself as he fought for his life and Aladdin's, and yet at the same time felt so unfailingly alive.

A boar-like yell, and the short, stocky soldier that had managed to back Mozenrath up a few steps threw all his weight into what would have been a devastatingly brutal downward blow from his sword. Mozenrath swung his body out of range, and met the attack with a block charged with magic, that threw the soldier back, toppling another in the process.

Through sweat and grit Mozenrath managed a pleased smile; he still had it. He was doing just fine on his own. He compensated for his lack of swordsmanship with throwing a bit of power into each offense. He respected Aladdin's wishes; it was never enough to kill, maybe daze and incapacitate, but not kill.

He stole a quick glance at Aladdin, and was filled with pride. Aladdin, defiantly on his feet, some odd paces away. Aladdin, the stubborn, the inventive, the boundless energy, and that blazing, righteous determination to win, was taking on more than his fair share of combatants. The men seemed to gravitate towards him with blood in mind. Sure enough, Mozenrath was one of the most wanted men in Agrabah, but their hatred for Aladdin ran deep, Aladdin who dared to rise above his station, and beat the odds they would never overcome themselves.

Mozenrath was only mildly worried as he watched Aladdin face three, four men at a time. Aladdin's fighting style was effective enough, he mused as a flood of power through his sword hurtled yet another enemy back. No, correction; Aladdin had no fighting style. It was a haphazard, yet bewildering effective combination of street fighting and a swordsmanship so great, it was hard to believe that he had learned it on his own, or through raw experience. His movements weren't particularly fluid, like Mozenrath's naturally crafted themselves to be, but he was quick, and clever, and unafraid of taking desperate chances.

Getting himself far too close for sane security, Aladdin threw himself against the broad chest of a muscled, swarthy black soldier. Hearing the breath forced out of the man's lungs and his cutlass relaxing inadvertently in his large, deadly hands, Aladdin took advantage of his distraction, and drove the blunt end of his board into the man's unprotected stomach. Down he fell.

"Mozenrath!" Aladdin suddenly yelled in the sorcerer's direction, before falling back as the shudders of a different soldier's elbow landed in his abdomen. Mozenrath turned quickly, without being told where the threat was coming from. His intuition near saved his life. A thin, keen rat of a guard had made an opportunity of Mozenrath's unprotected back, and arrow flew straight for him.

Thanks to Aladdin's warning, and his own instincts, Mozenrath stepped as neatly as possibly to the side, though the hardened edge did graze his flesh. A stinging blaze ran up and down his arm, a blossom of pain with a patch of blood at the center. The pain was odd, far too hot, and far too foreign. He looked up in shock at the triumphant face of his enemy. The arrowhead had been tampered with some sort of poison.

He gripped his injury hard in one dirty, shaking hand.

"Fool!" he shouted in indignancy, and plunged his sword into the sand. For a moment, there was nothing, and unconcerned, the guard stepped forward to finish the job. Then there was an explosion of sand, and screaming, the man was tossed like a doll to a dune several meters away. 'No,' Mozenrath thought savagely, 'Still not killing.'

Blinking sweat and perhaps blood from his eyes, he summed up the chaos about them with a calculating eye. The soldiers' numbers had thinned yes, but there was something that was lending them a…staying power. These were the men that remained, four or five. Mozenrath saw they must had been the strongest, or at least the most determined to have not been intimidated out of fighting all together.

His heart leapt in alarm as he was nearly caught off guard by a hurtling building of a guard, overweight, but carrying momentum and heavy, curved sword. "Your life is mine, sorcerer!" In long distance, Mozenrath rarely had problems overcoming his foes, but this one was in too close, he feared, for him to have time to muster up an attack. And so he went on the defensive, knocking aside or confusing the aim of the guard's blows.

Only an arm's reach away, Aladdin too was having his difficulties. His, however, was an excited countenance now that the battle was whittling down. He laughed, a vibrant sound, and with the lightness of his body, and speed of his mind, danced out of each blow, come the thinner's blunt sword, or his partner's axe. Oh, he feared injury, what person in their right mind did not? But it was positively enthralling. Here, in the midst of this contest of wills, did he feel alive.

With a thunderous roar, they both came, his ears ringing with the sound of the wind they cut as their weapons were brought down upon the vulnerability of his flesh. He let one of the swords cut into staff, and then swiftly brought around to solidly knock into the chin of his other attacker. Double knock out. He grinned, and his nerves jumped. Perfect.

"Oh it's not over street rat, not by a long shot."

Before he had a chance to turn, before his brain could register 'danger' all the wind was viciously ripped from his lungs, and his back was riddled with shock waves of pain. As he crashed to the ground, he was given a fading glimpse of Rasoul, standing fiercely triumphant behind him, his fists still raised where they had been brought down on his spine. He coughed gracelessly, forcing out guttural noises of pain. Rasoul's leg came swinging at his unprotected middle, and he was too distracted to avoid the blow all together.

He struggled to regain his bearings, realizing that the one person he had so foolishly underestimated the presence of was Rasoul himself, Captain of the Guard. He stood like the tower of man he was, all broad shoulders, broad arms, and broad face. His teeth were somewhat oversized, and so made his grin menacing and aggressive behind his thick black facial air and bright, small eyes. Rasoul too, looked unbothered, as if the shaming and defeats of his own men were nothing to him, as if facing his rival and a dangerous enemy of his city was unimportant. He looked, at ease, prepared.

"I've been waiting for this a long time, street rat. There's no princess to pull you from the fire this time."

"I've never needed Jasmine's protection!" Aladdin automatically shot back, feeling foolish even as the words left his mouth. But this is what Rasoul did to him when they encountered one another; Rasoul always had an uncomfortable knack for making Aladdin feel small, ignorant, and unclean, a rat. As they began their own physical struggle against one another, it became, if only for a moment, just another confrontation in the hot, busy streets of Agrabah's market, a young thief, and a disapproving appendage of the law. It came…natural.

Mozenrath was safe, for now. The men that had dared to come after him had been laid low. He found a way of sheathing sword within his belt, and wiped the blood off his hand. Suddenly, he heard sound disturbing to him, a choked noise of pain, and a cry of frustration.

"Aladdin!"

And there his partner was, struggling; fighting now with everything he had against the burliest of all the soldiers. Mozenrath recognized this one. Rasoul, the man who he resented for the all-too-clear hate he had for the both of them. The man that insulted him, and had held a sword point to his throat and threatened his life. His face and his temper both burned in a desire to harm, especially as he watched Rasoul crash his fish into Aladdin's face.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

The youth staggered back, dazzled, if only for a moment, by the starburst of pain that radiated from his jaw, to thunder in the back of his head and his neck. Instantly, blood flooded the lower of his face, which he swiped at with a shaking hand. Rasoul was serious. His jaw felt unbalanced. Rasoul came in again hard, betting that Aladdin would be slow in his reactions now. Aladdin danced back, and as Rasoul's forward momentum carried him on, Al threw his leg down on Rasoul's lower back.

"You've taken a lot of things from me Rasoul, but I won't let you take this. Not this time."

The man bellowed in insulted injury, and threw his arm out, knocking Aladdin back onto the sand.

Rasoul rose and bore down on Aladdin like an angry storm.

"You selfish, ignorant, worthless piece of trash!"

Trying to reign in his panic, Aladdin lashed out with is foot and caught the taller guard in the knee. This gave him enough time to rise, and force his arm up hard into the thick column of Rasoul's throat. The man gagged violently, and Aladdin maneuvered himself out of reach.

As he watched Rasoul struggle to regain himself, his mind raced. Mozenrath came up on Rasoul from behind. Aladdin watched breathless, still wiping at his crimson jaw, as Mozenrath came to stand behind the guard down on one knee, color slowly returning to his broad, enraged face. He arched a disgusted brow down at Rasoul, and without hesitation or remorse, picked up Aladdin's discarded staff and swung it.

Rasoul fell without a sound.

Mozenrath brought up his sleeve and began wiping the blood from Aladdin's face, calm and collective. Aladdin, however, saw the concern and worry flood the place rage used to reside on Mozenrath's face. He sighed, contented as Mozenrath fussed quietly over him.

"That was pretty vicious, Mozenrath." Aladdin said with a smile, ducking out from under Mozenrath's arms.

Mozenrath rolled his eyes. "Try not to sound too flattered. It's just I'm the only one allowed to throw you to the ground, that's all." He smiled for Aladdin.

Aladdin's eyes, however, kept darting back to Rasoul crumpled on the ground.

"This is getting dangerous. The soldiers will wake up soon, and I honestly believe Rasoul means to kill me this time. I don't know how to fight him like that."

Mozenrath frowned defensively.

"Than let's be done with him. Let's be done with them all."

Aladdin's brow furrowed.

"Now Mozenrath, you know that I'm not comfortable with killing. It doesn't have to come to that."

Mozenrath looked away, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. His clothes were dirty with blood, sand, and sweat, and his hair was an amassed rebellion of black curls, but Aladdin still looked at him with tenderness.

"If anyone threatens what we have again, it will come to that."

Aladdin brought his hand up, a smile at his eyes, gentle and warm. Mozenrath caught him by the wrist, and put the palm to his cheek. He turned his lips into a calloused palm.

"Let's get out of here," Aladdin offered.

Mozenrath was about to agree, when he watched as Aladdin's expression turned to horror, looking just above Mozenrath. "Mozenrath!" he yelled, throwing the sorcerer aside.

As Mozenrath tumbled into the sand, everything was confused for a moment. There was a pained shout, and a triumphant cry, and the clang of metal on metal. Mozenrath turned himself back over onto his back, and looked up. Rasoul was up and on his feet, the flat of his sword tilting Aladdin's chin painfully high. Aladdin's hands were preoccupied at the bleeding mess where his shoulder used to be, his face distorted from pain.

Through a haze of pain, he stared at the man so intent on making his life harder than it had to be. The entire left side of Rasoul's face was a startling bruise, barely-there rivers that leaked blood. His left eye was bloodshot, but his expression was clear, simple hatred. In his hand he held Cassim's dagger that Aladdin had unsheathed just in time to prevent Rasoul's sword from ending his life. But Rasoul had it now. He stared at it, and laughed, tossing it at Mozenrath himself point down.

Mozenrath cried out as the force of the blade's fall buried itself into the skin of his inner thin, pinning dirty cloth and flesh. White hot, the pain crawled up his body. Aladdin yelled in fury, and bellowed up at Rasoul, despite the blade kissing his throat.

"You will not touch him!"

Rasoul ignored his heedless bravery, and instead surprised Aladdin by chuckling.

"Do you realize how utterly pathetic you are? How completely base?"

Rasoul forwent the sword in favor of his fist, and un-ceremoniously hefted Aladdin up by his collar and laid into him with all he had.

"Do you realize?" He yelled, "How much you've ruined? Why is it, streetrat, everything you touch is ruined? You're a pollutant."

He sent an overwhelmed Aladdin staggering back, struggling to not choke on his own blood, his body's instinct telling him to double over. But Rasoul was relentless, knew no hesitation, and knew no mercy or compassion. He brought his knee into Aladdin's stomach, and his rival fell to the sand, dry-retching. He too knelt to uncaringly, tightly fist a handful of Aladdin's hair, and twisted.

"You're a parasite. A pollutant. You've always lived off others, and I've had to watch! The sultan indulged you, and the princess indulged you, and I've never been made sicker. To think," he continued, lifting a barely conscious, kicking Aladdin high by his throat,

"That I was expected to bow to you! You, a sultan. No more than a criminal in hiding. A freak. I'd never bow to you. You ruined Jasmine's life."

He shook Aladdin roughly, the hero maneuvered like a broken doll. His hands fought to wrench Rasoul off him, and he strove to set himself free.

"Who do you think you are? Jasmine…I helped raise her! I was there, not you, when she took her first steps. I was there when her mother died, to keep the vultures away. I've always been there, so what makes you think you can just play with her feelings like that?"

He stopped, and a battered Aladdin, unable to reply, was limp in his grasp, his fingers a weak hold on the hands around his throat. _'I'm going to die…'_ was one conscious thought that surfaced un-muddled. From far away, he heard Rasoul whisper fiercely in his face.

"To think, I would have been expected to bow to a freak. Like. You."

Overlooked by the both of them, Mozenrath watched. With blood soaking his pant leg, with pain ringing in his ears, Mozenrath watched. He watched as Aladdin's fight faded, and he submit himself to Rasoul's barrage on his body, his esteem, and his mind. He watched as Rasoul strove to break the hero, his hero, his Aladdin. He watched the wounds rubbed into the dirt, the uncomfortable truth revealed, but mostly, the look of defeat in Aladdin's eyes.

'There should never be defeat in those eyes' 

As if empowered, Mozenrath rose, and in one smooth jerk, removed the blade from his thigh. As if beyond human things, like pain, like fear, like caution, he took the blade into his own hand. As if magic once again, his power crackled around in, intensifying with impossible speed into a flame of brilliance about him.

As if he was once again the murderer from what seemed like so many, many years ago, he brought the blade down into the base of Rasoul's neck, without pity, without faltering.

The expression Rasoul made would haunt Aladdin for years to come, to shadow his mind as he struggled to sleep. It was almost as if he was merely surprised, not mortally wounded, his mouth slightly open, his eyes only a shade whiter. Then came the blood, not only from the top of his neck, but from his sockets, bubbling from his lips. He made an empty noise, and dropped a now unconscious Aladdin to the ground. Mozenrath stayed the weapon in its new, corporal sheath, and brought his lips to Rasoul's ear. This malicious whisper would be the last thing one of Agrabah's finest would ever hear.

"Aladdin's life is not yours to take. His life belongs to me. Remember that in hell."

With a small flexing of his magics, the blade became a conductor for Mozenrath's steadily building power. Rasoul was thrown into the afterlife with an explosion that would more than suffice to lead the hundreds of Agrabah's remaining army straight to the battered pair…


End file.
